Page 75 of Fake Crown

“I’m going to assume yes,” Nicole says. “If my boyfriend didn’t defend me after his ex came after me, I’d rip him a new asshole.” She shrugs. “I choose violence.”

“Rip him a new asshole? Definitely violent. Who raised you?”

Nicole lets out a laugh and then glances toward the bedrooms down the hall. We’re the first ones up.

“Posey didn’t bother with that. But I’m pretty sure she broke up with me.” One hundred percent sure. Remembering the expression on her face when she said I let her down guts me all over again. All the viral posts made it to my sister at her college in California, and even my parents were aware I was involved in “some sort of cheating scandal,” but it was easy enough to set them all straight. Conveniently, I left out the part where Posey was originally supposed to be my fake girlfriend. If I can get her back, there’ll be nothing fake about it.

“I wish she’d waited until after Christmas so you weren’t so miserable. Isn’t that relationship etiquette?” Nicole takes a sip of her coffee.

If we were in a relationship Posey acknowledged as real, maybe. I even bought her a present. She has a dangly bracelet she wears that has tiny charms of all her favorite things. I bought her a swimmer for it. Not sure I’d make it on the favorite things list anymore.

“What are you suggesting?” I ask in a huff. “You’re telling me I fucked up. I acknowledge that. I’m an idiot when it comes to women. Should I go talk to Val? Tell her to retract all her bullshit?”

“Step one. Watch the damn video. It’s everywhere. Not like it’s hard to locate. If you don’t know what your girlfriend is upset about, how can you possibly fix it?” Nicole holds up a finger. “Step two. Get your ex-girlfriend to back the fuck up. Step three. Grovel. Grovel hard.”

A three-step approach to winning Posey back. The first is easy. Unpleasant but easy. Talking to Val is going to take an inhuman amount of patience. As for the groveling, I’m not even sure she’ll let me in the door of her apartment for me to start the groveling process.

“You’re one of the most driven and focused people I’ve ever known,” Nicole says. “Apply a pinch of that—no need to scare her—and I can’t imagine she’ll say no. I also saw the video of the two of you. The last time you looked that happy was at the final medal ceremony of the last Olympics. If she can rival that feeling, well, that’s worth chasing.”

She makes it sound simple, but she’s never met Posey. Instead of “resistance is futile,” her motto appears to be perseverance is futile. Though I can’t help thinking I made some headway. In our viral video, she’s looking at me the same way I’m looking at her. And I know how I feel.

“She is one hundred percent worth chasing,” I say. Now, I need to figure out how.

Posey

During the Christmas holidays, the Summerset Royals host one event after another, and tonight we’re in the foyer outside the main dining room for cocktails before the staff usher us to our assigned seats at the gigantic dining room table.

The only thing distracting me from my heartbreak is watching Nick and Jules dance around each other with both of them back in the palace. Since Julia worked in California for a few years before returning home, the two of them have barely shared a room, let alone a dinner table.

If my stomach would stop dipping every time Brent crossed my mind, I would be enjoying Nick and Julia’s mutual discomfort much more. How is everyone else ignoring the tension? Someone get me a knife. I want to cut it.

A few years ago, when their friendship imploded, I couldn’t understand the strangeness between them. Now that I’m older, I can see it for what it is. Sexual tension. The two of them are far, far too aware of each other when they’re in the same room. I hope the staff have seated them next to each other at the table. I can’t be the only one who’s realized what’s up.

“Stop staring at him,” Julia mutters beside me.

“You won’t, so I will,” I say, and I snag a glass of champagne off a waiter on his way past. “I think he’s gotten hotter, don’t you?” At over six feet, Nick is the tallest of the three brothers, and he’s done some modeling. His medium-brown hair and hazel eyes coupled with his toned physique made him a regular in the gossip columns, on fashion runways, and on magazine covers. He’s quit most of that since he returned from college, but scandals never really leave. Another reason I’m apprehensive about what’s happening at Northern University.

“Posey, I’m not debating the hotness level of any of the princes with you.”

Her comment reminds me of when I met Monica, which leads me to how she encouraged me to go to Bermuda, which lands me at the doorstep of thoughts of Brent. I down the champagne in one gulp.

“You’re not drinking beer, you know. Dom shouldn’t be chugged.” Julia sips hers, and she turns her back on Nick and the rest of his family to peer at me with her blue-grey eyes through her glasses.

Ah shit. She’s giving me that narrow-eyed look that I loathe. Personal questions are headed my way. I’d much rather tease her about her avoidance of Prince Nicholas. She doesn’t even call him Nick anymore. Classic case of thou doth protest too much. The other two are still Alex and Brice to her.

Julia swipes another glass of champagne when a waiter passes, and she shoves it into my hand. Her lips twitch. “You leave again in two days, and I haven’t gotten my gossip.”

“Nothing to tell. Met a hot guy. Had a lot of sex. Decided he wasn’t for me. Rinse and repeat. Such is my life.”

“You’ve redecorated every room in Mom and Dad’s house. Every room. That’s a whole new level of avoidance.”

“They were very generous with the budget. How could I resist?” I take another gulp of champagne.

“I think you met a boy you actually liked for the first time since Creepy Chris got the boot.”

Creepy Chris should have gotten more than my boot to his ass. She’s not luring me into discussing Brent. I’ve avoided lying in bed crying every day by keeping busy. Tonight, I intend to get very, very drunk, and maybe I’ll even find someone else to distract me.

Sucks that the thought of being with anyone else turns my stomach. This is why I don’t do relationships. Instead of scheming to get under someone, I’m wondering how to get over someone.